


give yourself to harmony

by weatheredlaw



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Arguing, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 05:16:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12741756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: “You wanna dance?”Joyce laughed. She was supposed to laugh right? This was a joke? He was smiling, yeah, but – Jim held out a hand, and Joyce considered him.“You mean that.” He nodded, and she shrugged. She'd done crazier things than dance with Jim Hopper.





	give yourself to harmony

**Author's Note:**

> IT TOOK ME OVER A YEAR AND A HALF BUT I FINALLY MANAGED TO WRITE SOME JOPPER FIC. enjoy.

He was standing close to her and flicking the ash from his cigarette. Joyce was watching it die, watching the tip of it slowly fade out. Eventually, Hop tossed it to the ground, stubbed it out with the toe of his boot and said quietly, “You wanna dance?”

Joyce laughed. She was supposed to laugh right? This was a joke? He was smiling, yeah, but – Jim held out a hand, and Joyce considered him.

“You mean that.” He nodded, and she shrugged. She'd done crazier things than dance with Jim Hopper in their old school parking lot. He led like a natural, and Joyce let herself have this moment. She'd...earned this, hadn't she? Mourning was so strange – it did odd little things when you least expected it. She caught Jonathan going through old videos and their living room was suddenly filled with Bob's voice as he frantically tried to lower the volume. It didn't hurt like she thought it might, but –

Jim pulled back. “You're shaking.”

“It's cold, Hop.”

“Nah,” he said. “Different kind of shake. Sorry, I know it's...”

“No, _God_ , don't do that to yourself.” She pulled him in closer. “Don't do that to _me._ Bob's the last person on earth who'd...who'd want me to _punish_ myself.” Joyce laughed. “He loved dancing.”

“He was always kind of a nut, wasn't he?” It was said fondly, and Joyce could hear the smile without looking up. Bob and Hopper ran in different circles when they were in school. Hell, Bob and _Joyce_ ran in different circles. Joyce ran in Hop's circle – smoking by the fence and under the stairs, skipping out on detention. Screwing Lonnie in the back seat of his Impala during study hall. Shit, it'd been years since all that.

“Reminiscing?”

“Wondering how I managed to graduate.”

Jim chuckled. “Always wondered the same thing. About me. You were a no-brainer.” He paused. “That came out wrong.”

“It's okay, Hop.” She pulled back and rubbed a hand on his arm. “Hey, I'm glad you brought her.”

“She needed this. She _deserves_ this. Next year--” He gestured toward the building. “She'll be like everyone else.”

“You figure out what you're gonna tell everyone?”

He shrugged, leaning against her car again and fiddling with his lighter. “Started droppin' some hints that I'm thinking of adopting. Flo thinks it's sweet. Boys think I'm nuts, but...they know better than to ask too many questions. Already think I'm batshit anyway,” he added, pulling out another cigarette and settling it between his lips.

“You should quit.”

“Says _you_.”

“We can both quit,” she murmured. “It'll be like a bonding activity.”

“I think you and me have bonded enough over the last year.” He paused. “That came out wrong, too.”

Joyce laughed. “It's alright. I can tell you're getting sick of me.”

“Me? Sick of you? _Never._ ” He offered her another drag, but she shook her head. “That's not sarcasm either, Joyce. I mean that.” He nudged her. “S'been nice getting back into your good graces. Wish it could've happened under better circumstances, but--” He shrugged and took a long pull, blowing smoke towards the stars.

“You were never out of my good graces, Hop.”

“No?”

“No,” she said, and nudged him back.

 

* * *

 

In the spring, Hopper bought a house. Nothing in any respectable neighborhood – Joyce figured he'd rather choke than live in the midst of Suburbia. It was a little place, ten minutes outside of town, fifteen minute drive from her own. He wasn't, in his own words, going to have El be “that kid who lives in the woods.”

“Already gonna have a hard enough time as it is,” he muttered, stubbing out his cigarette in her ashtray. She handed him a cup of coffee and sat next to him.

“Anything's better than what she has now.” He raised a brow. “Oh come on, Hop. She's been living in your grandad's cabin for over a year. _You've_ been living up there for over a year!” She took the cigarette out of his hand. “We're quitting.”

“ _Hey._ ” He reached over to snag it back, but Joyce slid out of the chair. “I'm not gonna chase you through this house. Give me my damn smoke.”

“Nope. Will's on a crusade, it's only a matter of time before he gets you, too.”

“Then I'll have a talk with Will about minding his own damn business.” He moved fast for a big guy, and Joyce found herself laughing a little too loud as she ducked under his arm and into the living room. Hopper reached out and grabbed the end of her cardigan, yanking her towards him. She spun, right into his arms, the cigarette caught between them.

It was a _moment_ if there ever was one, and he was grinning madly, out of breath and laughing. Joyce couldn't even hold the cigarette in her hand. She dropped it and tipped her head back, giggling without abandon.

She imagined, for a moment, she felt the roughness of his beard touch the column of her neck, and she felt the air rush out of her.

And then he let go, and bent down to pick up his prize.

“Very funny, Byers.”

“Come on. You've got a kid now, Hop.”

He froze, mid-light. Joyce didn't know why, didn't know what she could have said that –

“Again,” he said quietly, and slipped the cigarette back into his front pocket before picking up his hat. “I gotta go.”

“Hop--”

He stopped long enough to kiss her forehead, a lazy sort of intimacy they had fallen into. Like sharing smokes and cups of coffee and leaning into one another when he and El came over for movie nights. Nothing serious, nothing that _meant_ anything – but a wide enough trap to stumble into and get comfy in.

Joyce stayed still as she listened to him start up his truck before going to the screen door to watch him drive away.

 

* * *

 

Jim Hopper never held a damn thing against her in her life, though. They were kids together, once, and she'd cut him out of her life because Lonnie was jealous. –

Jim Hopper didn't say a word.

So she isn't surprised a couple weeks later when she goes over to the house on her day off to bring him some candles and clean towels – things men _never_ remember – and he's grinning ear to ear and hugs her tight.

“She _loves_ this place. She can ride her bike to the Wheeler's.”

“I'm sure _Karen_ loves _that_.”

He chuckled. “Don't think she's sure what to make of her. I think she kinda knows she might have something to do with what happened, but you know Karen. She was never real keen on rockin' the boat.”

“Didn't you _bang_ Karen Wheeler?”

“Once,” he said. “Jesus, Joyce, that was like a _hundred_ years ago,” he muttered, shaking his head. “'Sides, she wasn't Karen Wheeler then.” Jim smiled. “She was _atomic_. Can't believe she married that _dork_.”

Joyce laughed, shaking her head. “I can't believe any of us really did what we did.”

Jim shrugged. “Is what it is.” He pulled some dishes out of a box. “Pretty much bought everything new except this kitchen stuff. Used to be my mom's.” Hopper didn't talk about his folks. They'd been gone before he went to 'Nam, Joyce knew that. Jim had some of the oldest parents out of everyone, Joyce remembered that, too. She watched him heft his mother's things out of boxes and wipe them clean before finding a spot for them in the cabinets.

“You've gotten all domestic.”

Hop paused. “Used to make play at it,” he said, before setting the last of the plates in the cabinet.

“Shit, I'm sorry Hop--”

“Stop tellin' me you're sorry. Don't...don't fuckin' _police_ yourself in front of me, okay? I'm a grown-ass man.” He slammed the cabinet closed and brushed past her. “Look, if you're just gonna stand there and feel sorry for me all day then don't, alright? Just _don't._ I don't need that because for the first time in a long time, I've actually got it good. Can you fuckin' believe that?” He spread his arms. “I've got a _kid_ who actually likes me, I've got a house that isn't on cinder blocks, I've got a job I finally care about.” He laughed and it was _bitter._ “You know, the only thing...” He stopped. Shook his head. “Forget it.”

“Hopper--” Joyce followed him out of the kitchen. “Hop, I'm sorry.” He looked at her. “Okay. I'm _not_ sorry. I came to help. I just...I just came to _help._ ”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Shouldn't have yelled,” he muttered. “Sorry, Joyce.”

“No apologies.”

“Nah,” he said. “You earned that one. Come on, I bought the kid a bed and it's got a thousand parts.” He put an arm around her and pulled her into the back of the house.

 

* * *

 

They stopped cleaning at noon and picked at cold fried chicken for an hour or so before tossing to bones in the bin and trying to get their momentum back.

“Shoulda worked through lunch,” Jim muttered. He leaned against the wall in his bedroom after they finally managing to put the bed frame together and toss the mattress and boxspring on it. Joyce pulled the fitted sheet taut and turned to look at him. “What?”

“I can't believe you didn't own a single pair of sheets.”

“Yes you can,” he muttered, but he smiled through it.

Joyce shrugged. “Ok, sure. I can.” She gave the flat sheet a flick and it fell onto the bed. “When was the last time you _had_ a real bed?”

“Right before I came to Hawkins.”

“Jesus, Jim.”

“I know.” He stood and inspected her handiwork. “Looks good.” He glanced at his watch. “Should probably go into the station and make sure no one's killed each other.”

“Flo would have called.”

“After she shot everyone,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Joyce smiled and pulled a wrinkle out of the sheet before they headed out of the room. She rummaged through her purse for her keys while Hopper cleaned up their lunch. He was...softer than she remembered him being. Even before Eleven, before what happened to Will. She remembered her Hopper as a kid with hard edges and quick, biting humor. This Hopper had loved and lost and come around the bend. He was still jagged, some parts of him would never straighten out, Joyce knew that. But...still.

_Still._

“Hop?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier, you...you were going to say something about the only thing you didn't have.” He turned rigid over the sink. “What were you going to say?”

He shook his head. “Not important. Doesn't matter.” He turned to her. “I'll walk you out.”

“No.” Joyce put a hand on his chest as he came closer. “No, you should tell me. It's important.” She took a step back. “I want to know.”

“You really don't, Joyce.”

“Hop--”

“I'm not doin' this anymore today, alright?” He gave her a forced grinned, and there was so much behind it that Joyce nearly flinched.

But she didn't.

She was Joyce fucking Byers. And she didn't flinch.

“Jim.”

“Don't, Joyce.”

She set her bag on the kitchen table. “We can do this all day, Chief. You _know_ I can.”

“It's none of your god damn business, now take your shit and get the hell outta my _house._ ”

She put a finger in his chest. “ _You_ made it my business when you put yourself into every corner of my life. When you ask me to live in yours! So you tell me, or I'll--”

“You'll what? You got nothin', Joyce. Nothin' on me, at least.” He shook his head. “You're unbelievable, you know that?” He scrubbed a hand over his face and laughed. “Alright. You wanna know what I was gonna say? You really do? 'Cause you're not gonna like it.”

“Hop--”

“It's you. Okay? The one thing that I don't really have right now is you.”

Joyce shook her head. “Hop, you _have_ me, I'm standing here, I see you every day--”

“Not. Like. _That._ ”

He stared. Joyce stared.

And then she understood.

“...Oh.”

“Yeah. _Oh._ ” Hopper turned away from her. “You happy now?”

“Jim...”

“Look, I got stuff to do, Joyce. Alright? So go home and...and do what you need to do and I'll see you when I see you.”

Joyce was still a little stunned. She didn't know what to say, how to process. She hadn't _considered_ \--

(Liar. Liar. _Liar_ , she'd considered Jim Hopper a hundred times, just in the last year alone. She'd considered everything about him and she--)

She turned and she walked out the door.

And she stood by her car, keys in hand, and considered him again.

And then she got mad.

She scared him, when she threw the front door open and slammed her purse onto the table. He turned and backed up as she put a finger in his face and snarled, “If _you_ don't have me then the only person _you_ get to blame is yourself.”

“I know that.”

“You could have told me _any time._ You think I wouldn't have listened? That I don't think about you?”

“I know, Joyce.”

“You think that...that just because I was a punk when we were kids and hurt you means I don't think about what could have happened? Because I do.” She backed away. “Jesus, Hopper. You can _do_ so much, you _are_ so much, and the last person you tell that you want me is _me?_ ”

“What do you want me to say, huh? You want me to tell you what you want to hear? _Fine_ ,” he spat. “Fine. I don't _love_ you, I don't _want_ you, and I _don't_ need your help! Now get the hell out of my house!”

“I never said that's what I wanted to hear!” she spat back. “You're a fucking asshole, Hopper, you know that?”

“Big damn news,” he said. “Thanks for the update, Byers! I'll fuckin' jot that one down!”

She didn't hear the rest. Probably wasn't much to hear. She grabbed her bag and went to her car, knuckles white and heart racing. She pressed her forehead to the steering wheel and took deep, measured breaths.

Hopper rapped his knuckles on the window. She opened the door. “ _Jesus_ , what--”

“I love you,” he said.

“Hop--”

“Just, stop talking. For two minutes.” He held out his hand and she took it, letting him pull her out of the car. “I love you. I want you.” He cupped her cheek. “I need you to help me.” Joyce reached up to cover his hand with her own. “I don't have anyone else. Me and the kid...you're all we've got.” It wasn't romantic – not really. She was flush between him and her _car_ , and he towered over her and _Jesus_ they were both crying and Joyce –

Met him in the middle. He bent low to kiss her, hands trailing down her sides, thumbs ghosting under her shirt and over the skin of her hips. She wound her arms around his neck, holding him down, holding him close because she was certain, she was completely convinced that if she _let go_ – she was never going to get him back.

And the he said quietly, into the open space between their lips – “Can you...come inside?”

“Why?”

“So we can get my new sheets dirty, Byers. Why the hell else?”

She laughed. “Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“If you do--”

“I do, Hopper.” She looked up at him. “I...really do.”

 

* * *

 

Hopper carried her to bed like it was nothing and sat her on the edge of it before lowering himself to his knees. His fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of her jeans for just a second before he got them undone and Joyce lifted herself up so he could pull them down. He pressed his lips to the bend of her knee, yanking her jeans down and tugging her shoes off with them. Joyce framed his face with her hands, watching as he moved closer and closer, until his teeth pulled the skin of her inner thigh and he looked at her – she nodded.

The first touch was _fire._ Hopper hooked an arm under either knee and pulled them onto his shoulders, dragging her closer to him as he buried his mouth between her legs. He pressed his tongue inside her, fingers gripping her thighs tight. Joyce fell back on her elbows before reaching out the drag a hand through his hair. He looked up and met her gaze and she felt him smile against her.

Eventually he let one leg hang loosely over his shoulder while his hand came up to stroke her clit. He pulled back and slid a finger into her, stroking carefully, wiping his mouth on her thigh.

“S'good?”

Joyce panted. “Yeah. Yeah, it's good, Hop.” She gripped his hair and tugged. “Another. I can...I can take another--” He nodded and pressed another finger inside her, leaning his head against her thigh and lazily fucking her open, carefully stretching her. Eventually she wrapped a hand around his wrist and pulled him out. “I need you to fuck me.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He stood and yanked on his belt, pulling it off and tossing it into the corner. He was half-way done getting his jeans unbuttoned when he swore and dove over the bed, rolling onto the floor and tearing in a box. “ _Shit_.”

“Hop--”

“ _Condoms_.”

Joyce groaned and fell back. “You're killing the mood.”

“I'll bring it back,” he muttered. “Just...two seconds.” He threw things into the bathroom as he frantically searched and Joyce watched. “Stop objectifying my distress.”

“Your ass is hanging out.”

“So's yours.”

Joyce laughed and took the momentary lapse to shimmy out of her sweater and blouse. She was going to unhook her bra when she felt his fingers snap over it and it came loose. “Show off.”

“It's in the way,” he said as he stood in front of her and pushed his jeans and boxers down. Joyce plucked the condom from his fingers and tore it open. He was half hard as she rolled it down the length of his cock. He gave her a nudge and she backed up, letting him crawl onto the bed and hover over her. Joyce reached down and pulled on the hem of his shirt until he let her pull it over his head and toss it to the side.

“You okay?” he asked, kissing her forehead and trailing his lips over her cheeks and down her neck. He lingered on her shoulder. “This is good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it's good.”

Hopper nodded and reached down to hold his cock stead against her entrance before he pressed in.

Joyce gasped as filled her, drawing her knee back and laying flat on the bed.

“Easy,” he murmured. “ _Easy._ ”

“It's--”

“I know. It's okay. You're okay.” He moved slow, bottoming out inside her before he pulled back. He gave a few lazy strokes before he picked up his pace. The focus on her was almost too much. He'd always looked at her a certain way, always _seen her_ , but – this was intimate, of _course_ it was, they were naked and he was fucking her and he'd told her he _loved_ her.

But the way he _saw her_. God, it could have been anything else, it could have been sitting across from her at the kitchen table, it could have been watching her do the dishes –

The way he looked at her then, didn't matter what else he was doing. She felt what he felt. She knew what he meant. She _knew._

His hips snapped against her, his thrusts were quicker and Joyce reached down to touch herself. He slowed, watching her, his mouth slack and breathing labored.

When she came, it was sharp and took him by surprise, she knew. The muscles of her legs tightened and she felt herself gripping him. He gave a low grunt – it didn't take long for him to come. Hopper groaned and stilled inside her, panting and dropping his head down against her shoulder. He gave a few shallow thrusts before he pulled out and stood. He tied off the condom and tossed it before coming back to lay next to her.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“I know.”

“No, my smokes are in the kitchen.” Joyce smacked him. “ _Ow._ ”

“We're quitting.”

“This isn't gonna be a thing where you boss me around, Byers.”

Joyce rolled over and propped herself up on her elbow. “Hop?”

“Hm?” He'd closed his eyes and was focusing on his breathing.

“This is already a thing where I boss you around.”

He opened one eye before rolling over to kiss her. “Alright,” he said. “Fair enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> title from "under stars" by AURORA  
> tumblr @ weathered law


End file.
